Drone2: Bicycology is the study of complicated vehicles that
give the appearance of having been designed for transportation. Yet all
appearances to the contrary, the only bicycle maker in nature are the blind
forces of physics.

Drone1: I find that hard to believe.

Drone2: It is almost as if the ant brain were specifically
designed to misunderstand bicycology, and to find it hard to believe.

Drone1: I still think a human must have made this bicycle.

Drone2: That’s a science-stopper. That’s the great cop-out,
the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence.

If you
don’t understand how a bicycle came into being, never mind: just give up and
say human did it. Please don’t go to work on the problem, just give up, and
appeal to man. Man-did-it teaches you to be satisfied with nonanswers. It’s a
sort of crime against anthood.

Drone1: What’s your alternative?

Drone2: The world is divided into things that look designed
(like birds and bicycles) and things that don’t (rocks and mountains). Things
that look designed are divided into those that really are designed (anthills)
and those that aren’t (bicycles).

Drone1: But isn’t a bicycle maker a simpler explanation than
a fortuitous, self-organizing bicycle?

Drone2: The notion of a human bicycle maker belittles the
elegant reality of the anthill.

We later worked through the context and it appears to be
referring to their unity according to their wills in salvation – that Christ is
the Good Shepherd who wills to save, and that God His Father, who is greater
than all, also wills for their salvation (surprisingly, offering an even deeper
comfort). Looking again at the errata, Samuel Clarke makes the same argument –
that they are not ‘(H)eis – One Person’ but that they are ‘(H)en – one and the
same thing as to the exercise of Power.’ (ie. they are of one “(H)en” accord in
the matter of salvation).

i) This is a popular anti-Trinitarian prooftext. According
to unitarians, this means the Father is God, and Jesus is not.

According to Nicene subordinationists, this means that even
though Jesus is still God, Jesus is eternally and ontologically subordinate to
Father.

A basic problem with this approach is that it isolates the
statement from its surrounding context. “...for the Father is greater than I” isn’t
even a complete sentence. And it’s just a small part of a very extended discourse. In order to
gauge the force of this statement, we need to compare it with other statements
in this discourse.

ii) Jn 14:28 comes on the heels of Jesus saying:

Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is
in me? (v10a).

The mutual indwelling of the Father and the Son involves a
symmetrical relationship. While it’s understandable how the greater could
include the lesser, it’s less understandable how the lesser could include the
greater. To play on the spatial metaphor, you can put something smaller in
something bigger, but not vice versa.

If, on the other hand, the Father and the Son are coequals,
then it’s more understandable how each could contain the other.

Of course, it’s possible for the preposition (“in”) to carry
different connotations, depending on who or what is referred to. But here
identical language is used for both parties, in mirror symmetry.

iii) There’s an obvious parallel between 14:12 and 14:28:

Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also
do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am
going to the Father (v12).

You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come
to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the
Father, for the Father is greater than I (v28).

Both involve comparative greatness, and in both, the
comparative greatness is indexed to the Son returning to the Father.

Given the proximity and similarity of these verses, where
v28 rounds out v12, forming a kind of inclusio, we’d expect there to be an
analogy between the greatness of the Father and the greatness of the works. But
it doesn’t make much sense to say the works are ontologically greater. What
would that even mean?

Commentators puzzle over the precise identity of the
“greater works” since Jesus doesn’t specify what they are. However, they seem
to have reference to answered prayers, where v12 leads into v13.

Jesus may have in mind something like this:

35 Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, then comes
the harvest’? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are
white for harvest. 36 Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and
gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice
together. 37 For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ 38 I
sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you
have entered into their labor (Jn 4:35-38).

There’s only so much Jesus could do at a particular time and
place. Ministering in Palestine for three years.

Collectively speaking, generations of Christians can do
“greater works.” The expansion of the Gospel has a global impact. That’s a
major force in shaping the course of world history.

iv) It’s also striking that Jesus says:

13 Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the
Father may be glorified in the Son. 14 If you ask me anything in my name, I
will do it (Jn 14:13-14).

On a unitarian or Nicene subordinationist reading of 14:28,
that’s not what we’d expect him to say. Rather, we’d expect him to say:

Whatever you ask in the Father’s name, he will do it, for
the Father is greater than all.

But Jesus instead invites the disciples to address their
prayers to him. And he tells them that he will answer their prayers.

v) Likewise, in 16:7, Jesus says:

Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage
that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But
if I go, I will send him to you.

But if the sender is greater than the sent, does that mean
the Son is greater than the Spirit? To my knowledge, that’s not how Nicene
subordinationists argue.

vi) Now, a unitarian or Nicene subordinationist might object
that elsewhere in the Fourth Gospel, the Father sends the Spirit. Prayer is
addressed to the Father. The Father answers prayer.

That’s true. I’m not suggesting that these are exclusive to
Jesus. But that very alternation is problematic for unitarianism and Nicene
subordination.

How do we harmonize statements which indicate the Son’s
equality with the Father with statements which indicate the Son’s inequality
with the Father? I don’t think that’s difficult.

For instance, someone with greater ability can perform a job
requiring less ability, but someone with less ability can’t perform a job requiring
greater ability. It’s easy to see how equals can assume unequal roles. How a
superior can accept a self-demotion.

Indeed, this is the case throughout Bible history. Because
we can’t come up to God’s level, God comes down to our level. This is also the
case in the Fourth Gospel. The earthly ministry of Christ is clearly a comedown
from his natural status. That’s how it’s portrayed. A greater temporarily
assuming a lesser standing.

vii) I think 14:28 involves the same principle as 17:4-5:

4 I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work
that you gave me to do. 5 And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with
the glory that I had with you before the world existed.

The Father is “greater” in the sense that the heavenly realm
is greater than the earthly realm. By returning to heaven, Jesus is leaving
behind the limitations of his earthly ministry. He can do more from heaven, for
that mode of existence isn’t subject to our spacetime limitations. Of course,
his earthly ministry lays the groundwork for his heavenly ministry. The
ascended Son can empower the disciples to do greater works because heaven
affords a greater field of action.

In 14:28, I think the “Father” functions as a metonymy or
synecdoche for God’s exclusive domain, in contrast to the world. A greater
place.

That identification accounts for the emphasis on changing
places (heaven>earth, earth>heaven), with the attendant abilities.

This is similar to how the Gospels alternate between
“kingdom of God” and “kingdom of heaven,” where “heaven” is a synonym for
“God,” and vice versa.

Tim Warner of the Pristine Faith Restoration Society is the most recent date-setter. Warner has written the recent book The Time of the End, which is a Christian version of the Mayan prophecy. He concludes,

[My] new book The Time of the End provides a complete standard biblical chronology of the entire Bible based on these two calendars, showing that we are only about 2 decades away from the time of Great Tribulation.

Joel Richardson has enthusiastically endorsed Warner's date-setting book.
I have responded to both here and here and here.
Richardson did not like my criticism to another date-setting book with him deflecting away from the issue saying that I am unloving (as if Jesus and Paul did not have the freedom to be pointed with those who misled God's people).
And Warner has responded to me—as predictably as any date-setter has in the past–with, "Read my book!" So according to Warner and Richardson we cannot discourage people away from date-setters until we have read their books. Wow. This is absurd. The fact that date-setting is discouraged by the biblical writers is good enough reason to reject it. Oh sure, Mr. Warner may claim, “I am not really a date-setter because (fill in the excuse).” But that is a shame that individuals feel justified to skirt around this biblical prohibition.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

One of
the stock objections to the Bible is the allegation that it teaches a
stationary earth. Passages about “the earth shall not be moved” are quoted to
prooftext this assertion.

i) As I’ve noted before, one problem with this allegation is
that it simply misinterprets the verses. These aren’t referring to the immobility
of the earth in relation to the sun, moon, and stars, but to the seismic
stability of the earth. Not about planet earth, but the surface of the earth,
where humans live. About the presence or absence of catastrophic earthquakes
which destroy human life and disrupt human livelihood.

ii) But there’s another issue. Even ancient earthbound
observers, without our modern scientific apparatus, were quite able to imagine,
and argue for, the axial rotation of the earth:

It has become abundantly clear that Steve Hays thinks he can
appeal to completely unverifiable and undefinable concepts in a debate over
Theology Proper. When I accuse him of worshiping three gods, he simply appeals
to anthropomorphic tri-theism and thus over-rules any inquiry into his view by
falling back on the unverifiability and undefinability of his words.

i) That’s a very telling accusation. I didn’t appeal to
anthropomorphic tritheism in response to Drake Shelton. Rather, I made that
appeal in response to Dale Tuggy. Nice to see Drake’s inadvertent admission
that he and Tuggy see eye-to-eye.

ii) Unitarians have always accused Trinitarians of
tritheism. It’s not incumbent on Christians to justify the tritheistic
appearance of Trinitarianism. For Biblical theism has a tritheistic appearance.
God reveals himself in ways that look tritheistic.

It’s not particular formulations of the Trinity that
generates that appearance. Rather, it’s the primary data of Scripture that
generates that appearance.

In Scripture, God is apparently tritheistic. That, in turn,
is counterbalanced by the fact Scripture also discloses a monotheistic
conception of God.

Christians shouldn’t be made to feel defensive about the
apparent tritheism of the Trinity, for that is based on God’s self-revelation.
That’s normative–as far as it goes.

Now we know from the monotheistic passages that the Trinity
is just apparently tritheistic, not really and truly tritheistic. But it’s not as if
the monotheistic passages take precedence over the “tritheistic” passages. It’s
all inspired. It’s all revelatory.

Moreover, even the monotheistic passages were more
contextually qualified than unitarians make them out to be.

He claims that eternal generation cannot be true because it
is a metaphor.

One wonders if Drake is actually that simple-minded. Was that
my claim? No.

I never said–or even suggested–that eternal generation
cannot be true because it’s a metaphor. Rather, I said that because the sonship
of Christ is a metaphor, you must make allowance for the disanalogies as well
as the analogies.

A metaphor both compares and contrasts one thing with
another. You’re not entitled to arbitrarily pick-and-choose what you think
carries over from the metaphor to the analogue.

I ask him what
he means by metaphor and he simply cops out by saying that the Bible does not
define metaphor.

That’s an amusing complaint from a Scripturalist. Well, the
Bible doesn’t define metaphor, so why is a Scripturalist requiring an
extrascriptural definition of metaphor?

Of course, it’s easy to define a metaphor. But that’s really
not the point. Drake acts as though you have to provide a full-blown theory of
analogical predication before you can recognize a metaphor or draw any
distinctions reasonable between the analogous and disanalogous features of the
metaphor.

But the Bible itself clearly makes no such assumption. It
doesn’t demand that from its readers. They were expected to exercise common
sense.

Take the sheepish metaphor, where the Bible uses sheep to
symbolize Jews and Christians. You don’t have to have a theory of analogy to
intuitively grasp the limitations of that comparison. You can tacitly appreciate
both the similarities and dissimilarities between men and sheep when the Bible
draws that comparison.

Drake is acting like Christians couldn’t know what it means
for Jesus to walk on water unless they could define water as a chemical
compound consisting of one oxygen molecule to two hydrogen molecules connected by
covalent bonds.But you don’t have
to be Linus Pauling to understand the account of Jesus walking on water.

Likewise, take the sonship of Christ. You don’t have to
begin with a general theory analogical predication. Rather, you can just study
what the Bible says about the sonship of Christ. What’s the significance of
that metaphor in various scriptures? How does that function in the argument or
the narrative of a particular Bible writer? That’s how you determine the
parameters of the metaphor.

Of course, I think the analogy breaks down. If a human author
somehow gained the magical ability to bring her characters to life so that they
do actually commit horrific acts of murder (for example), we would hold the
author responsible (as well as the now alive characters). The only reason we
don’t hold authors responsible for murders committed by their characters in
novels is because the characters and the murders are imaginary, not real.

Actually, I think creative writers are responsible for the
characters they create. They are responsible for whether their stories
glamorize evil or expose evil for what it is. Are they using the villain as a
foil, to promote good by way of contrast? Or does the writer make the villain
the anti-hero?

I’ve already talked with numerous Calvinists about that and
other points related to God’s sovereignty and, for the most part, our
conversations have ended in what I would consider impasses.

To my knowledge, the only Calvinist whom Olson has publicly
debated is Michael Horton. But Horton is basically a popularizer.

Olson hasn’t tested his position against the toughest
Reformed competition. He hasn’t debated Reformed philosophers like James
Anderson, Jeremy Pierce, Greg Welty, or Paul Helm (to name a few). He hasn’t
debated Reformed exegetes like Tom Schreiner, Gregory Beale, Don Carson, or
Vern Poythress (to name a few). So he’s made things easy on himself.

Likewise, he censors Calvinist commenters at his blog. Now
that’s his prerogative. But it’s duplicitous to shield your position from
astute criticism, then complain that you never heard a good response to your
objections. Olson himself avoids engaging the most able opponents of his
position.

That’s not always deliberate, although there’s some of that
in his moderation policy. I think it’s more due to the fact that because he hates
Calvinism, he simply lumps all Calvinists together. He doesn’t distinguish
popularizers from scholars, philosophers, &c.

IF God foreordained and rendered certain a particular event…

“Foreordained and rendered certain” has become one of
Olson’s stock phrases. What does he mean by “foreordained” and “rendered
certain”? Is he using them synonymously? If not, how do they go together?

Would it be okay for God to foreordain a particular event,
but not ensure it? Would it be okay for God to ensure a certain event without
foreordaining it? What exactly does Olson find objectionable? The combination?
Each considered separately? How does he define his terms? How does he think
they’re interrelated?

Does he think foreordination entails the certainty of the outcome?
If so, isn’t it somewhat redundant to use both expressions?

For instance, an outcome needn’t be foreordained to be a
sure thing. Causation, determinism, or causal determinism doesn’t require
premeditation. Chemical reactions are deterministic without the catalyst
foreintending a particular outcome.

Does Olson think about what he’s saying, or has it just
become mechanical. This phrase rolls off his tongue without consideration.

IF God foreordained and rendered certain a particular event
for a greater good (as you assert), why, as a Christian, embrace feelings of
abhorrence about them? Shouldn’t you at least TRY not to feel abhorrence about
them? After all, they are actually good from a higher perspective–the one you
claim to have that sees them as necessary events brought about by God for the
greater good.

Before addressing his objection directly, notice that it
would be trivially easy to recast the alleged problem in Arminian terms:

If God has a morally sufficient reason for allowing
tragedies, then why, as an Arminian, do you react with abhorrence? After all,
God had a good reason for permitting it. If you react with moral abhorrence,
aren’t you implicitly judging God’s wisdom and goodness by allowing this to
transpire? If you express moral abhorrence at a tragedy which God allowed,
aren’t you implicitly expressing moral abhorrence at God’s permission?

By Olson’s own admission, there are many situations in which
God can and does override human freewill. Therefore, God doesn’t permit it
because he has to:

rogereolson says:

June 28, 2012 at 1:14 pm

I’ve talked about this quite a bit in the past. No Arminian I know
denies that God ever interferes with free will. The Bible is full of it. The
point is that in matters pertaining to salvation God does not decide for
people. If he did, he’d save everyone. The issue is personal relationship. God
cannot and will not override a person’s free will when what is at stake is his
or her personal relationship with God of love. But God certainly can and does knock
people off their horses (as with Saul). I think you are over interpreting
Arminianism’s view of freewill. Free will, as I have often said, is not the
central issue. The central issue (and only reason we believe in free will) is
the character of God including the nature of responsible relationality.

The difference lies in the character of God. I don’t have a problem with
God manipulating people’s wills so long as it doesn’t coerce them to do evil or
force them to enter into a relationship with him. If God causes a person to
turn one way at a corner rather than the other way, so that the person sees a
sign that brings attention to his or her need of God, I don’t have any problem
with that. You seem to be laboring under the misconception that Arminians
believe in free will above everything. We don’t. That’s never been the point of
Arminian theology as I have shown in Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities.

So Olson has conceded that God, consistent with Arminian
principles, could prevent many of these tragedies. Therefore, Olson can’t say
it would be wrong to feel moral repugnance at God’s permission because God’s
hands were tied. For Olson has granted God’s vast latitude to meddle in human
affairs. Since the Arminian God was in a position to stop child murders, why,
by Olson’s logic, shouldn’t our moral repugnance at the tragedy transfer to
moral repugnance at God’s inaction?

Perhaps you’ll say that such feelings are simply
irresistible. But my question is whether you think they are right. What
justifies them rationally? Even if they are irresistible, why not ALSO
celebrate such horrific events since you know, however you feel, that they are
ordained and rendered certain by God FOR THE GREATER GOOD?

Again, IF I held your perspective about God’s sovereignty I
would do my best to push aside feelings of moral repugnance in the face of, for
example, child murders, and view them stoically if not as causes for
celebration. Why not?

i) For one thing, it doesn’t occur to Olson that the
Calvinist God uses our moral repugnance to accomplish his will. Our moral
repugnance isn’t contrary to God’s will. Rather, giving us a sense of moral
repugnance is one of the ways in which God moves historical events. Moral
repugnance is a deterrent against certain crimes. So moral repugnance is a part
of historical causation. World history would unfold very differently absence
moral repugnance. Moral repugnance is a factor in what does or doesn’t happen.
That’s consistent with God’s plan for history. Human psychology has an impact
on history.

ii) In addition, moral repugnance, like the evil which
elicits moral repugnance, reinforces the contrast between God and evil. Makes
us more appreciative of God.

rogereolson says:

December 27, 2012 at 12:59 pm

But what I am asking is why Calvinists such as the author of
the essay in question do NOT celebrate dead soldiers and children. That would
seem to be a logical response to their deaths IF those deaths are willed,
planned and rendered certain by God for the greater good. Now let me be clear,
I’m not claiming that “celebrating” them would mean having no normal human
sorrow or feelings of loss. Rather, those normal feelings could remain even as
a divine determinist praised and thanked God for the deaths. And by “celebrate”
I don’t mean publicly. That would rightly be avoided in order not to cause hurt
to those who lost loved ones. By “celebrate” I mean only interiorily–within
one’s own mind. That’s what I’m asking of the author of the essay. Does he or
doesn’t he celebrate in his own mind horrors such as mass murders of children?
If not, why not?

i) This is one of Olson’s persistent mental blocks. He’s
unable to keep two ideas in his head at a time. The same event can be evil in
itself, but also contribute to something good. These are both true. One doesn’t
negate the other. Something can really be evil it its own right, but serve a
good purpose in spite of its evil character.

ii) We don’t have God’s perspective. We can’t see for
ourselves how all things working together for the good of those who whom God
has chosen (Rom 8:28).

That’s something we take on faith. And there are partial
illustrations of that principle in Scripture.

But in most situations, we’re completely in the blind. We
don’t see the future. As a rule, we’re in no position to perceive the
trajectory by which God brings good out of evil. Our knowledge of the past is
fragmentary. Compartmentalized. Our knowledge of the present is fragmentary.
Compartmentalized. And our knowledge of the future is guesswork.

We only see what we can see. That’s what we’re reacting to.
The sample of reality that’s available to us. The tiny sample that we can
inspect.

Some
Christians feel intimidated by science, while many more Christians are told
that they ought to feel intimidated by science. We’re told that Christianity is
unscientific. That we should either abandon the faith wholesale or at least
perform radical surgery.

In light of that, here’s something I found revealing. You
might suppose that physics majors are the cream of the crop. The brainiacs. Not only would you
expect them to be in the top percentile of the student body generally, but
among the best and brightest science majors. We associate physicists with
brainpower. Daunting I.Q.

So it’s striking to see the vast intellectual gap between
these physics majors and a distinguished physicist:

And although Don Page may be near the top of his field, I
don’t think he’s quite up there with Roger Penrose or Edward Witten. So the gap
would be even wider in their case.

It makes you wonder how much even the average science major
actually understands about his chosen field. How deep his understanding goes.
How much he’s qualified to evaluate. How much he’s taking on faith. How little
he can prove on his own. How many science majors must simply take the word of a
few geniuses at the very top of the pyramid.

Now you might say that’s unfair. These aren’t graduates,
much less post-doc students at Harvard, Princeton, Caltech, MIT, or Cambridge.
But, of course, that’s a winnowing process. An elite few. So it reinforces my
point. What minuscule fraction of the population knows the intricacies of
science well enough to even assess scientific claims against the Bible? How
much is just bravado?

12 So
Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through
his own blood. 13 Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the
reproach he endured. 14 For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city
that is to come (Heb 13:12-14).

This is
a continuation of my [lightly edited] email exchange with David Baggett. He
coauthored Good God with Jerry Walls.

Nice
sign-off. I appreciate the sentiment. However, when you say that, I can’t help
comparing it to something else you and Jerry said. Permit me to begin with a
hypothetical story.

Suppose
I have a best friend in high school. Let’s call him Spencer. We’ve known each
other since first grade. He lives two houses down from me.

Over the
years, Spencer has been a better friend to me than I’ve been to him. He’s been
a better friend to me that I’ve been to myself. He’s been strong for me when I
was weak.

One
time, Spencer and I were competing for the same scholarship. When he found out,
he withdrew from the competition. He didn’t want to win the scholarship if that
meant my losing the scholarship.

One
time, when we were at a 7/11, an armed robber came into the store and pointed a gun at
me. Spencer stepped between me and the gun to shield me.

My family
and his family are both into breeding racehorses. That’s the family business.
Spencer and I have always tried to keep the family business separate from our
friendship.

One time
my family was almost broke. We really needed to win the purse to stay in business.
Spencer overheard his dad telling someone on the phone to throw the race by
threatening our jockey.

If we
lost, we would have lost everything. But Spencer tipped me off. When his dad
found out, his dad threw Spencer out of the house. Cut him off.

That’s
the kind of friend Spencer has been to me.

One day
I was talking to a new student at school. Let’s call him Scott. He’d only been
there a few weeks. I was trying to help him fit into his new surroundings. We
were sitting on the bleachers, watching a football practice. I was pointing out
the students to Scott, so that he knew their names.

When I
pointed to Spencer, Scott grimaced. I asked him why.

He told
me that he couldn’t stand Spencer. He told me Spencer was probably the kind of
guy who tore the wings of flies as a little boy. If there were dismembered cats
in the neighborhood, Spencer would be the prime suspect.

Needless
to say, Scott’s reaction to my best friend made a tremendous first impression.
At that moment I said to myself, “Scott and I can’t be real friends. I can
still be a friend to him. I can help him out if he gets in a bind. But he can
never be a friend to me. Not as long as that’s how he feels that way about
Spencer. Given his contempt for my best friend, there’s no rapport between us.”

Now
let’s compare that to a real story. My story. God awakened me when I was a
teenager. Now I’m 53. God not only saved me when I was a teenager, but he’s
kept me all these years. He’s guarded me and guided me. Protected me and
provided for me. He’s been more faithful to me that I’ve ever been to him. This
is the God I live for. I owe him everything. He’s done far more for me than the
idealized friend in my hypothetical story.

Then I
read a book by Jerry Walls and David Baggett which says my God could command
people to torture little children for the fun of it.

When I
read that, it doesn’t hurt my feelings. It doesn’t offend me. But it does
alienate me. It instantly dissolves any sense of spiritual rapport between me
and Jerry or David. A chasm opens up between us. They can’t talk that way about
my God, and still expect to be friends. That’s too compartmentalized. Too
horizontal–at the expense of the vertical.

Now, you
might respond, “Oh, we’re not talking about God. We’re just talking about your
idea of God. Your Calvinist conception of God.”

Except
that if I’m right, then my idea of God maps onto the one true God–just as you
think your Arminian concept of God maps onto the one true God.

Steve, you have your
convictions and I have to respect that. We have deep disagreements but I would
hope our agreements trump. I do not deny you are a Christian. I would hope you
would not deny that we are.

Thanks.
My point is not to stifle your freedom of expression, but to point out that when
you make certain statements, these have consequences. This isn’t just
theoretical. It isn’t just debating ideas for the sake of ideas.

It’s too
facile to put respective theological convictions in airtight containers that
have no impact on Christian fellowship. That reduces Christian faith to
sociology. I’d be dishonoring God if what you said about God–as I understand
him–had no impact on what I thought of you. I’d be acting as if God isn’t the
most important person in my life. What you think about God, what I think about
God, and what I think about you are intertwined.

I
haven’t said anything about your Christian bona fides or Jerry’s. I was
discussing a different issue. If, however, you’re actually asking how I’d
respond to that question, I’d say the following:

i) Do I
think Arminians can be genuine Christians? Sure. Conversely, some Calvinists
are nominal Christians. Some Arminians are heavenbound while some Calvinists
are hellbound.

ii)
There are different types or levels of disagreement. At one level, there’s the
purely exegetical debate. For instance, I. H. Marshall interprets John, Romans,
and Ephesians differently than Tom Schreiner, Greg Beale, or Vern Poythress.
That’s simply a disagreement over what the Bible teaches. That, of it, shouldn’t
distance us from one another. At that level it’s not fundamentally different
from film criticism, where we offer competing interpretations of a particular
film.

iii)
However, you, Jerry, and some other Arminians (e.g. Roger Olson) have upped the ante. If you say (and this is a stock example which you and Jerry use
throughout your book) that the Calvinist God could command people to torture
little children for fun, then that’s not like debating the best interpretation
of ancient texts.

And your
position generates something of a dilemma. For you think a Calvinist should cut
you more slack than your own position allows for.

We don’t
worship God directly. Rather, mental worship is mediated through our concept of
God. Our worshipful attitude is directed at what we believe God to be like.

If you
say the Calvinist God could command people to torture little children for fun,
and if it turns out that the Calvinist God is real, then were you and Jerry
worshiping the one true God?

Notice
that I’m not judging your Christian profession from a Calvinist perspective.
Rather, I’m judging your Christian profession on your own terms, given how you
yourself chose to frame the issue.

Haven’t
you burned your bridges? Is the Calvinist God still a viable fallback option
for you, given what you’ve said about him?

iii)
Finally, one of my basic beefs with freewill theism is how often the freewill
theist’s conception of God reduces to a purely theoretical (and ultimately
fictitious) intellectual construct. Their starting-point is philosophical
anthropology. Specifically: human libertarian freedom. That’s their axiomatic
postulate.

They
then retroengineer their model of God and providence from that starting-point.
They constantly tweak their model of God, adding an attribute here, subtracting
an attribute there. Their concept of God is a concept they’ve created through
various ad hoc adjustments to make it consistent with philosophical
anthropology. Make it all balance out.

Their
idea of God is hardly an object of faith or worship. The whole exercise has an
air of unreality. A made-up idea of God–like a boy who builds a castle out of
LEGO bricks.

I think
freewill theists of that variety lack genuine piety or reverence.

Your
position is an instance of Ockhamism, in my estimation.

You and
Jerry simply redefined Ockhamism in ad hoc fashion. There’s nothing Occamist
about saying God doesnt love every sinner. You can try to attack
reprobation/limited atonement on other grounds (exegetical, philosophical), but
don’t take a historic theological position with an established meaning,
unilaterally redefine it, then use it as a term of abuse. That’s simply
unethical.

I meant to say I do not
think the God you worship is different from the God I worship.

Sorry to
be a pest, but isn’t that ambiguous?

Are you
saying Arminians and Calvinists subjectively worship the same God or
objectively worship the same God?

For
instance, are you saying Calvinists subjectively worship the God of Reformed
theism, even though the real God is the God of Arminian theism, and the
Arminian God accepts their confused worship as if they were intentionally
worshiping the Arminian God?

Since
you don’t think the God of Reformed theism actually exists, he can’t be
objectively worshiped. There is nothing real that directly corresponds to that
idea of God. And when a Calvinist worships God, the mental or psychological
object of his worship is his Calvinist concept of God, in distinction to the
extramental reality. So how does your position sort out?

I think
a function of our being Christians is that, though we can’t both be right about
every aspect of soteriology, we worship the same God. Else we wouldn’t both be
Christians. None of us has it all figured out, but we needn’t to in order to be
reconciled to God. What we agree on is enough for that purpose.

And if
you came to the conclusion that the God of Reformed theism was real, what would
your reaction be?

I would
be sad. :) If God reveals this, I would have no choice to submit to the truth.

I
appreciate your charitable spirit, but ultimately I don't want Arminians to
treat me more charitably than they treat my God. We should be in solidarity
with our God, out of sheer, immeasurable gratitude.

If, say,
someone mistreated my mother, I’d rather share her mistreatment than be treated
better than my mother. Indeed, it would be unconscionable for me to accept
better treatment for myself, but worse treatment for her. If she is mistreated,
I’d rather be mistreated with her, than be well-treated.

And it’s
far more important to treat God as he deserves. I can’t divvy things up the way
you do. That’s too abstract. Christian faith is ultimately about devotion to
God. I can’t bifurcate how Arminians regard my God from how they regard me. I
don’t wish to. I’d be slapping God in the face to accept that dichotomy. If
anything, they should obviously think far less of me than they do of my God.

Steve, you seem to have little idea of Christian unitarian theology. If
you did, you’d know that we too believe in a self-revealing God, who by his
spirit inspired the prophets and apostles, and through them the Bible, and who loved
us so much that he sent his only Son as the best and last revelation of him.

But
doesn’t Dale classify himself as a “humanitarian unitarian”? Here’s how he
defines that category:

Some
Christian unitarians past and present define their thesis as the claim that
Christ has a human nature but not a divine nature – that is, they define a
unitarian has what I have called a humanitarian unitarian (what is nowadays
often called a “biblical unitarian”), understood as implying that Jesus existed
no earlier than his conception.

So on
that definition, in what sense is Jesus God’s “only Son”? Isn’t Dale just
playing a shell-game?

Notice,
too, that Dale says God sent Jesus, not to save us, but to merely reveal
himself to us. Indeed, how could a merely human Jesus save us? How could he even save himself?

It has long been understood that there is something peculiar, even paradoxical, about conservatism in America. American conservatism is different from conservatism in other countries, even those countries which were the original source of many other American ideas and ideals, i.e., the countries of Europe. Indeed, the very term “American conservatism” is something of an oxymoron. For most Europeans who came to America, the whole purpose of their difficult and disruptive journey to the New World was not to conserve European institutions but to leave them behind and to create something new, often an entirely new life and even a new identity, for themselves.

In this essay, we will examine how the paradoxes of American conservatism have unfolded and revealed themselves during the period of the last three or four decades. We begin our discussion by noting the three distinct dimensions that have always defined American conservatism. The original and traditional American conservatism of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries collapsed in a great debacle during the Great Depression of the 1930s, but this was followed by a creative reinvention of American conservatism during the Great Stagflation of the 1970s. This reinvented conservatism experienced its own debacle during the current Great Recession, which began in 2007 and which continues into the 2010s. We conclude with a review of the current condition of what was once a reinvented, but now seems to be YET another collapsed conservatism, in the light of the elections of 2012. The decisive defeats of the Republican party, particularly in the Presidential and Senatorial elections, have demonstrated that American conservatism will once again have to be reinvented and the Republican party will have to appeal to new constituencies or they, like the Federalists, Whigs, and traditional conservatives before them, will disappear or be eclipsed.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Steve, you seem to have little idea of Christian unitarian theology. If
you did, you’d know that we too believe in a self-revealing God, who by his
spirit inspired the prophets and apostles, and through them the Bible, and who
loved us so much that he sent his only Son as the best and last revelation of
him.

Given the season, his claim raises an intriguing question:
How do Christian* unitarians celebrate Christmas? They can’t very well sing
“Hark! the Herald Angels Sing” or other Incarnational Christmas hymns and
carols. Well, I suppose they could–with their fingers crossed.

What does their hymnal look like? Is there a Christmas
section, or blank pages at that point in the calendar? More likely, a
Christian* unitarian hymnal has the Barry Manilow Christmas repertoire:

Steve,
you seem to have little idea of Christian unitarian theology. If you did, you’d
know that we too believe in a self-revealing God, who by his spirit inspired
the prophets and apostles, and through them the Bible, and who loved us so much
that he sent his only Son as the best and last revelation of him.

Dale
acts as though you can swap out the key players (redefining the Father, Son,
and Spirit), swap in new players, while leaving the Christian story intact.

Now,
it’s superficially true that you can change the players while you retain the
same basic plot, but the meaning of the story has been radically subverted. The
story of salvation is not just a string of bare events, but theologically
interpreted events. Dale is acting like a positivist historian.

Take
ufology. Following Dale’s lead, we could substitute three aliens for the
Trinity. From the mother ship, in high orbit, the alien captain (the alien
“Yahweh”) sends an alien “prophet” to earth to prepare humans for an alien
“savior”. This could follow the narrative outlines of the OT and NT. Same plot,
different players.

Indeed,
some science fiction, like the Stargate series, toy with the idea that ancient
“gods” are really space aliens masquerading as gods and goddesses. Their “miracles” are
simply advanced alien technology.

Moreover,
this isn’t just fiction. There are ufologists who really believe that sort of
thing.

Clearly,
though, this would be a completely different religion. It would only be
Christian on the surface.

26 Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our
likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the
birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over
every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

27 So God created man in his own image,

in
the image of God he created him;

male and female he created them.

28 And
God blessed them. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the
earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the
birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

(Gen 1:26-28)

7 then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature…17
but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the
day that you eat of it you shall surely die.

(Gen 2:7,17).

17 And to Adam he said,

“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife

and have eaten of the tree

of which I commanded you,

‘You shall not eat of it,’

cursed is the ground because of you;

in
pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;

18 thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;

and you shall eat the plants of the field.

19 By the sweat of your face

you shall eat bread,

till you return to the ground,

for out of it you were taken;

for you are dust,

and to dust you shall return.”

(Gen 3:17-19)

3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

4 what is man that you are mindful of him,

and the son of man that you care for him?

5 Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly
beings

and crowned him with glory and honor.

6 You have given him dominion over the works of your hands;

you have put all things under his feet,

7 all sheep and oxen,

and also the beasts of the field,

8 the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea,

whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

(Ps 8:3-8)

21 For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the
resurrection of the dead. 22 For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall
all be made alive. 23 But each in his own order: Christ the firstfruits, then
at his coming those who belong to Christ. 24 Then comes the end, when he
delivers the kingdom to God the Father after destroying every rule and every
authority and power. 25 For he must reign until he has put all his enemies
under his feet. 26 The last enemy to be destroyed is death. 27 For “God has put
all things in subjection under his feet.” But when it says, “all things are put
in subjection,” it is plain that he is excepted who put all things in
subjection under him. 28 When all things are subjected to him, then the Son
himself will also be subjected to him who put all things in subjection under
him, that God may be all in all.

45 Thus it is written, “The first man Adam became a living
being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. 46 But it is not the
spiritual that is first but the natural, and then the spiritual. 47 The first
man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. 48 As was
the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of
heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. 49 Just as we have borne the image
of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.

(1 Cor 15:21-28,45-49)

1 Cor 15:24-28 is a popular prooftext for anti-Trinitarians.
They quote it to prove the essential subordination of the Son. However, that
rips the passage out of context.

In 1 Cor 15, Paul’s discussion is governed by his two-Adams
scheme. That’s explicit in vv21-22 as well as vv45-49. And notice how v24 picks
right up from v22, via the transitional verse (23).

But over and above that, the two-Adams scheme is implicit in
vv24-28, where the discussion is undergirded by reference to Ps 8. Ps 8:5-8 is
an interpretive paraphrase of Gen 1:26-28, concerning the creation and dominion
of original humanity.

Paul uses the two-Adams scheme to compare and contrast the
respective roles of Adam and Christ. That’s the operative framework in 1 Cor
15.

The first Adam was subject to God, as God’s earthly viceroy,
but insubordinate. In reversing the Fall, Christ, in his economic role as the
last Adam, and the eschatological viceroy, will be subject to God–in contrast
to the disobedient first Adam.

So this is not referring to the ontological status of the
Son. The Son of God is not an Adamic representative by nature, but by
Incarnation and mission. He assumes that office.

The filial subordination in v 28 is economic subordination,
which figures in his Adamic role, as the Second Man. It does not and cannot
refer to the Son in himself, for the Son qua Son isn’t Adamic–either naturally
or federally. Hence, Paul isn’t discussing the status of the Son absolutely,
but giving the reader a narrowly-drawn comparison between rebellious Adam and
his eschatological counterpart.

"That which, long ago, the Patriarchs travailed with, the prophets foretold, and the righteous desired to see, has come to pass, and received its completion today: God both was seen upon the earth through flesh and associated with humans. Therefore let us rejoice and be glad, beloved….For consider how great it would be to see the sun, descended from the heavens, running its course upon earth and thence sending forth its rays upon all. And if this happening in the case of the perceptible sun would have astounded all who beheld it – behold consider with me now – how great it is to see the Sun of righteousness sending forth rays from our flesh and illumining our souls." (John Chrysostom, On The Day Of The Birth Of Our Savior Jesus Christ, p. 180 here)

Monday, December 24, 2012

In recent weeks we have seen so called Reformed apologists
deny the eternal generation of the Son, deny the subordination of the Son to
the Father and belligerently affirm that John 14:28 merely asserts a functional
subordination to the Father in the economia. This interpretation is a complete
innovation and has no historical credibility, except for an ambiguity in Basil
the Great.[1] Here then I catalog a series of Early Fathers on the
interpretation of John 14:28 affirming an ontological subordination that
pertains not to a denial of homoousios but an affirmation of the Father’s
hypostatic Monarchy and the Son’s subordination to the Father as his source and
origin.

i) Quoting some church fathers, even if they happen to agree
with him, is a fallacious argument from authority. The church fathers were just
some Christian writers who lived a long time ago. Their opinions merit no
special deference. The fact that they believe something doesn’t make it true or
probably true. Their opinions are only as good as their supporting arguments.

Drake is play-acting. This is the behavior of someone who’s
so consumed by the role he’s playing that he resorts to patently fallacious
arguments

It’s also amusing to see a defender of Samuel Clarke feign
to be the champion of historical orthodoxy.

ii) Did I “belligerently affirm” a particular interpretation
of Jn 14:28. No, I merely posted, without comment, some exegesis of that verse
by Herman Ridderbos. Notice that Drake does nothing to disprove the
interpretation.

iii) Finally, Drake is no expert on historical theology. For
instance, William Cunningham, even though he himself defends the eternal generation of
the Son, goes on to say:

The use of the word subordination, however, even when thus
explained and limited, has been generally avoided by orthodox writers, as
fitted to suggest ideas inconsistent with true and proper divinity, and to give
a handle to the Arians.Historical Theology 1:296.

i) One
of the traditional motivations for the monarchy of the Father is to supply a
unifying principle for the Trinity. This supposedly safeguards monotheism
against tritheism. On this view, the Trinity is still one God because the
members of the Trinity share the same nature.

One reason the Eastern Orthodox reject double procession
(i.e. the filioque clause in Latin/Western editions of the Nicene creed) is
that this introduces two constitutive principles into the Trinity, for the
Spirit is said to derive from both the Father and the Son. If the Trinity has
one than one constitutive principle (i.e. the monarchy of the Father), the
result is polytheistic. Or so goes the argument.

ii) On a related note, the eternal generation of the Son and
the eternal procession of the Spirit are treated as individuating principlesto
distinguish the three persons. Two take two classic formulations:

The Father is of none, neither begotten, nor proceeding; the
Son is eternally begotten of the Father; the Holy Ghost eternally proceeding
from the Father and the Son (WCF 2.3)

Q. 10. What are the personal properties of the three persons
in the Godhead?

A. It is proper to the Father to beget the Son, and to the
Son to be begotten of the Father, and to the Holy Ghost to proceed from the
Father and the Son from all eternity (WLC Q/A 10)

It’s striking that the Westminster standards rubberstamp the
Nicene formulations at this juncture, despite Calvin’s reservations.

iii) There are, however, some obvious problems with the
Nicene argument. To say the Father filiates the Son and spirates the Spirit has
no explanatory value, for the claim is, at best, tautologous. All we’ve done is
to recast a noun as a verb. This is somewhat obscured by the fact that English
sometimes mixes Germanic nouns with Latin verbs. Let’s use the same language
for both:

The Father filiates the filius and spirates the spiritus.

Does that explain anything? No. The verb doesn’t add
anything to the concept. For the verb belongs to the same word-group as the
noun. If you know what the noun means, you know what the verb means, but the
verbal description doesn’t contribute anything new to your prior understanding.

It’s like saying a flower flowers, a light lights, or water
waters. That doesn’t advance our understanding of the process, for the
definition is circular. It leaves us where we started.

So it has no explanatory power. It’s just a pun or play on
words. A purely linguistic analogy.

iv) Of course, Nicene proponents to attempt to define
generation/filiation and procession/spiration by saying this means the Father
conveys his nature, essence, or substance to the Son and Spirit. However, there
are problems with that definition:

v) How do they derive “communication of essence” from the
concept of filiation? Even if it’s true that when a man begets a son, he
conveys his nature to the son, we’re working off a biological metaphor. For
it’s also true that when a man begets a son, he impregnates a woman. That’s a
necessary element of the same process. So how do Nicene proponents decide which
aspects of the metaphor to apply to the Son? How do they determine what’s
analogous and what’s disanalogous? To seize on “communication of essence” is
arbitrary. The metaphor itself doesn’t single out that particular aspect.

vi) However, let’s grant the conceptual derivation in the
case of filiation. By what argument do Nicene advocates derive the same concept
from procession or spiration?

Even if a man conveys his essence by begetting, does he
convey his essence by exhaling? How do you derive the concept of communicating
one’s essence from the concept of procession or spiration?

Is this supposed to be an argument from analogy, in which
wespiration is comparable to
filiation? But if it’s an argument from analogy, why define spiration by
reference to filiation rather than vice versa?

vii) Roger Beckwith says
eternal spiration is

…symbolised, when he proceeds
from Christ, by human breath (John 20:22). This is perhaps as near as we can
get to a conception of the eternal procession of the Spirit, and if so it is a
personal activity… if the very name of the ‘Spirit’ implies being breathed out,
as seems probable (Job 27:3; 33:4; Ezek. 37:5f., 14), the idea of proceeding
from God is essential to his nature,” R. Beckwith, “The Calvinist Doctrine of
the Trinity.”

But why
assume the Spirit is named the “Spirit” (breath, wind) to denote the effect of
a process? Surely pneuma and ruach have wider connotations. The Spirit might be
called “spirit” because he is invisible. Intangible. A discarnate agent.

Or he
might be called “spirit” because he’s the source of life, like the breath of
life. Not the effect of respiration, but the cause of respiration.

God
animated Adam by breathing life into him (Gen 2:7). Conversely, to die is to
expire. The Spirit reanimates the dead (Ezk 37:1-14). Divine CPR.

Or he
might be called“spirit” because,
like the wind, he is powerful, unpredictable, untamable (cf. Jn 3:8). Or
because he’s both creative and destructive (Cf. Gen 1:2; Ps 104:30; Isa 40:7).

Or he
might be called “spirit” to evoke the spoken word. Speech. He inspires the
prophets.

Or he
might be called “spirit” on analogy with the human soul (1 Cor 2:10-11).

Indeed,
it’s likely that Scripture is exploiting all these polyvalent connotations of pneuma
or ruach. It’s a very flexible metaphor.

viii) Finally, how does communication of essence
differentiate the Son from the Spirit if the same essence is communicated to
both? If you define generation and procession both in terms of communicating
the Father’s essence, then it’s the same process. How can the same process
yield different results?

And even if you say generation and procession represent
different processes, if the same essence is conveyed to both the Son and the
Spirit, how does the process have any differential effect? So the Nicene
argument fails on its own grounds.

Keep in mind, too, that the Nicene argument has spiraled
into extrascriptural speculation. It’s not as if the Bible commits us to these
speculations.